Two Kinds of Freedom; Freedom From And Freedom To Be (John Barlow & Bob Weir - "Lost Sailor")

 

          We have schlepped boxes from the basement to the kitchen. We have emptied our pantry of all the Chametz (all the “non-kosher for Pesach” foods and platters. We have filled the pantry with our Kosher for Pesach dishes, and cooking utensils. We set up a shelving unit to hold the kosher for Pesach food. We have closed-up cabinets and drawers that hold our regular year-round kitchen stuff.  We have carried out our Chametz and “disowned” it.  The bedrooms have been cleaned ( and what our son found while cleaning his room was ruly incredible!). We made numerous trips to the supermarket, so much so, that I have my own reserved parking spot. We have cleaned the kitchen over and over and over again. Of course, there is the yearly discussion of the menu: the Chef wants to make different dishes as she has grown bored making the same foods year in and year out. However, those of us who work as her sous chef and actually eat the food. yearn for the comfort of the same seasonal holiday foods that have been served every year.  The kitchen is about 15 degrees warmer than the rest of the house because it seems that the oven has been on all week. Yes, the Pesach preparations seem never-ending and filled with discussions and arguments about which spouse is strict or lenient regarding what is and is not Kosher for Passover and which Rabbi supports the respective spouse’s interpretation.   Indeed it seems very easy to get bogged down in the minutiae and the detail that we forget the purpose of this slave-like labor and preparation. 

          This Shabbat marks the first day of Pesach, Zman Cheiruteinu – the Time of our Freedom, as well as being Shabbat, Yom Menucha, and a Day of Rest.  Because Pesach comes once a year and Shabbat occurs fifty-two times a year, on this particular Shabbat, Pesach tends to be our focus. We didn’t just partake in a Shabbat dinner; we participated in a Seder.  We don’t read from the weekly Torah reading, we read that part of the Torah that focuses upon the narrative of the first Passover celebration in Egypt as B’nai Yisroel was about to become a free people and leave Egypt. U’Lekachetem Agudat Eizov Utvaltem BaDam Asher BaSaf V’HiGaTem El HaMaSHKoF V’El SHTei HaMZuZoT MiN HaDaM Asher BaSaF V’ATeM Lo TeiTZu ISh MiPeTaCH BeiTo Ad  BoKeR -  You Shall take a bundle of hyssop and dip it into the blood that is in the basin, and touch the lintel and the two doorposts with some of the blood that is in the basin and as for you, you shall not leave the entrance of the house until morning (Ex. 12:22). At some point during that tension-filled night, B’nei Yisroel would be freed. What was the exact moment of their freedom? What minute, what hour in the night were these slaves finally freed? The text does not tell us. No specific time is mentioned. Rather, the text tells us that by morning the slaves would be freed from slavery. And we would become obligated to retell this story to each generation.

            So we are obligated to tell this story to each generation. What is more, we are commanded to see ourselves as if we were actually slaves in Egypt and freed that night. Yet all we can say is that we were freed at some point during the night. At what exact time, who can say? Yet each week. we know exactly what time we stop. We know exactly what time we light Shabbat or Yom Tov (Festival) candles in order to usher in the Sabbath and the Chag (Festival). We know exactly when these moments begin and when these moments conclude.  Needless to say, when my son and I are sitting in Shul on Friday night, ushering in both the Sabbath and the Festival of Pesach, we will emit a large cleansing breath, knowing that our preparations are finished, and our work leading up to Zman Cheiruteinu, the Time of Our Freedom, is complete (or as complete as it can be). I know that when my son and I walk into our home, and the Seder Table is set, the candles are glowing and my wife and daughters are sitting quietly for just a moment catching their collective breaths, they are aware of this powerful moment.  At that moment of quiet and calm, we see Shabbat and Pesach conflate into the deepest possible understanding of freedom. At this moment, the final boxes have been put away, the preparation finished, the meal is cooked and we can now partake of freedom. Yes, we are free to sit, free to eat and drink. We are free to ask questions. We are free to offer answers. We are free to discuss and we are free to tell the story. Because we are free to do these seemingly trivial things: eat, drink, ask questions, answer, discuss, and tell stories; we understand and appreciate not only Pesach- Zman Cheiruteinu (Time of Our Freedom), but Shabbat- Yom Menucha (a Day of Rest) as well.

 Peace and Chag Kasher V’Sameach,
  Rav Yitz  

One Way or Another, This Darkness has got to Give - (Hunter/Garcia- New Speedway Boogie)

We recently drove to New York City and returned to Toronto for New Years. Thankfully the portable DVD player kept our three children sufficiently entertained during the drive. Needless to say we got on the road a little and departed Toronto around 11am. We crossed the border and stopped for lunch in Rochester, NY. By the time we left; I realized that we would be driving at night. With the temperature dipping below freezing; any melting that occured during the day would now freeze on I81 south and become ice. So I decided to take the NYS Thruway 90 East to 87South - less mountains, more rest stops and better maintained. Somewhere east of Syracuse, around exit 32 it became dark very quickly. There was no moon; neither were there any stars. It was dark. On a stretch of Thruway for maybe about 3 miles, there were no cars or trucks on the road. My headlights were on and I found myself driving through one of those typical lake effect snow squalls. I slowed down. Our daughter looked up from the DVD player and, noticing that we had slowed down, asked why. When I told her to look out the window, she said, " I can't see anything, its too dark." I told her to look out the front window. She said, "Abba, I still can't see anything, its too snowy". A few minutes later, we had passed through the squall and saw some car tail lights. A few moments later the sky had cleared and the moon and the stars lit up the heavens.

This week Parsha is Bo. God will bring the final plagues upon Egypt, finally convincing Pharaoh to let Bnai Yisroel leave Egypt. Among the final plagues that God heaps upon the Egyptians is Choshech- Darkness. Va'Yomer HaShem El Moshe Netai Yadecha Al Ha'Shamayim V'Yehi CHoshech Al Eretz Mitrayim, VaYameish Choshech - And Hashem spoke to Moshe: "Stretch forth your hand to the heavens, and there shall be darkness upon the land of Egypt, and the darkness will be tangible." (Ex. 10:21). When Moshe does as he is told, the Torah describes the darkness as Choshech Afeilah - or "thick darkness" (Ex. 10:22). First the Darkness is "tangible" and then in the next verse the Darkness is described as "thick". What is tangible darkness? What is thick darkness? I have heard of thick fog, that is to say the "fog was as thick as pea soup." I haven't heard of darkness being thick except if the darkness in question was somehow connected to tension. Of course, "tension" is frequently described as thick -"The tension was so thick; you could cut it with a knife". But that moment of tension is not necessarily confined to darkness, there can be equally tense moments when there is light.

Normally, we describe darkness as the absence of light. However this plague of Choshech must be more than just the absence of light. There is a content to this darkness, a mass, a density to this darkness. Moses Maimonides, The Rambam (12th Century Spain) explains that this darkness was indeed an opaque fog like condition that extinguished all flames and blanketed light. Rashi (11th century France) explains that this darkness was so thick that one could not even move. It would seem that this darkness left people sticking their arms out feeling around and each step taken was filled with trepidation as one worried about putting his/her foot down. In order to feel the ground beneath one's feet, people would have dragged their feet because the darkness left one wondering where the ground was.

From a physical perspective, this darkness was not something that was particularly common. However from a spiritual perspective, it would seem to me that this darkness is something that some of us struggle with at one point or another. This is the darkness that envelops our soul. This is the darkness that envelops our minds and blankets our hearts. This is the darkness that leaves us feeling trapped in whatever situation we may find ourselves in. This is the darkness that leads us to think that there is no way out from what plagues us. This type of darkness can lead to depression and even suicide.

While the plague lasted only three days, and served as a pre-cursor to the final plague, Makat Bechorot - the Death of the First Born - this ninth plague of Choshech offered a glimpse as to what living in darkness, or a living with great loss must be like - a thick tangible emptiness that weighs down upon you that makes difficult to even move.

Yet, as one tries to continue to function, to wake up, to get through each minute, hour and day the chance of the darkness lifting increases. While at first it may not be noticeable, eventually the darkness will lift and hopefully one makes it through the other side of that darkness.
Peace,
Rav Yitz